I jumped to my feet. “Does that mean I’ve got the job?”

“A trial period. I’m to show you what needs to be done—you may change your mind once you see it—and you can work on it for a few days. He’ll assess your progress and decide if you’re up to completing the work by the end of summer. There’s a chamber on the upper floor where you can sleep.”

I hurried after him, questions tumbling over one another in my mind. “What exactly is it I’ll be working on?” I asked.

“Records. Family history. They’ve all been scholars after their own fashion, from Anluan’s great-grandfather down to him. He’s got all manner of documents in there, some of them not in the best condition. Needs sorting out, putting straight. It’s a mess, I warn you. Enough to dishearten the most orderly of scribes, in my opinion. But what do I know of such matters?”

As he talked, the steward led me along a hallway and up a precipitous flight of heavily worn steps to an upper floor, where several chambers opened off a long gallery. Large spiders tenanted each corner and crevice of the stonework. Leaves had blown in through the openings where the gallery overlooked the garden to gather in damp piles against the walls.There was a forlorn smell, the scent of decay.

“Here,” said Magnus, ushering me through a doorway.

The chamber was bare, cold and unwelcoming, just like the downstairs rooms I had seen. It was furnished with a narrow shelf bed and an old storage chest. I did not think anyone had slept here for a very long time. “I’ll bring you up some blankets,” my companion said.“It gets cold here at nights. There’s a pump outside the kitchen door; we use that for washing. And you’ll need a candle.”

“Has this door a bolt?”

“This may not be your run-of-the-mill household,” Magnus said,“but you’ll be quite safe here. Anluan looks after his own.”

On this particular point it was necessary to hold my ground. “Anluan can hardly be expected to patrol up and down this gallery all night making sure nobody disturbs us,” I said.